


Valentine's Day? More like ValenTim's Day!

by theatretechlesbian



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Jonbinary, No Spoilers, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Valentine's Day, canon timeline? whats that, just the OG archives squad having a fun time, no beta we die like 70 percent of statement givers, platonic fluff, sasha spends this entire fic giggling. she does not stop at any point, tim learns shakespeare for jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29198421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatretechlesbian/pseuds/theatretechlesbian
Summary: "It had been alright when Tim and they had worked in Research; the department was much larger, and Tim's energies were focused on everyone else, so Jon could slip away unnoticed from Tim's romantic confessions. But now, it would be Tim against the Archives. And there were only three of them.At least Sasha knew what was coming, but Martin? Martin seemed to have a short attention span at the best of times, let alone with the distraction that was Valentine's Day Tim Stoker.Jon really wasn't looking forward to it."Or, the one where Tim routinely goes all out on Valentine's Day because he loves his friends.Set in Season 1 before anything awful happens
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, implied, kind of? - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Valentine's Day? More like ValenTim's Day!

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a couple of pick-up lines, and it just sort of....happened
> 
> enjoy

  
Jon awoke that morning, much earlier than they'd expected. The sunlight was starting to filter through the cheap wooden blinds, left open from the night before. Jon had pretty much entered their flat and flopped immediately on the bed. They'd made the mistake of starting to read a statement just before day's end, and of course it had to be one of those pesky ones that didn't record digitally. So after finding the tape recorder and getting everything back in order, they had read the statement. The hours seemed to disappear, a three page statement about disassociation somehow taking 4 hours (the irony was not lost on them). Combined with the joy that was London's public transport, it'd had been approaching midnight by the time Jon got home. 

  
But as Jon made their coffee, black with more sugars than necessary, they realised exactly why they'd done the extra work the night before. It had been the 13th of February, which, in the Gregorian calendar, is followed by the 14th of February.   
Valentine's Day.  
Which meant that Tim was going to be insufferable. 

Jon dressed as quickly as they could, aiming to get to the Institute and seal themselves in their office. They might actually get some work done that way, not interrupted by any serenading, cards, or grand gestures, courtesy of Tim.  
It had been alright when Tim and they had worked in Research; the department was much larger, and Tim's energies were focused on everyone else, so Jon could slip away unnoticed from Tim's romantic confessions. But now, it would be Tim against the Archives. And there were only three of them.   
At least Sasha knew what was coming, but Martin? Martin seemed to have a short attention span at the best of times, let alone with the distraction that was Valentine's Day Tim Stoker.  
Jon really wasn't looking forward to it.

They got the earliest tube available, walking through the grey rain as quickly as they could from the station whilst looking dignified. (They only tripped over their feet once, and it was absolutely due to a misshapen paving slab and not Jon's own unco-ordination.) They shuffled into the building, keeping an eye out for any tasteless red and pink decorations that were so common on this day in Research. The walls were, thankfully, blank.  
The Magnus Institute was a confusing building. The hallways never quite seemed to lead to where you expected, and certain flights of stairs would take you to specific floors. It hadn't taken Jon long to find the quickest route to the Archives proper. They utilised it now, feeling somewhat silly as they hurried quietly down the corridors. One might even go so far as to call it sneaking.

It wasn't worth it in the end. Jon stood in front of their office door. There was a piece of paper taped at eye level, with _NO ENTRY_ crudely written in permanent marker, and a small line underneath stating that there had been a broken pipe. It was also, rather unfortunately, locked. Jon hadn't even known that there was a lock on this door. They'd certainly never been given a key.  
Jon initially decided to check in with Rosie, see if Elias perhaps had a key, but ten steps from their office, they realised how this all might sound. _Oh yes, I've been here a couple of months, already lost a key I don't remember receiving, Oh don't worry, I've just been leaving my office with potentially sensitive GDPR material completely unlocked every single day_.

  
That would go down _so_ well.

So Jon span on their heel, feebly trying to open their office door one last time. As expected, it didn't open. They stood there, frowning. If Jon wasn't able to get into their office, it technically wasn't a big deal. They had their laptop, and the tape recorders and statements were kept in a separate room. On paper, they could complete their work just fine, using the spare desk in the assistants' shared office.  
But in reality, a day working in the same room as Sasha, Martin, and Tim would get the same amount of work done as if Jon hadn't turned up to work at all. 

  
The shared office was fully decorated with paper bunting and faux flowers. It wasn't this way when Jon had left the night before, but they didn't put it past Tim to have stayed even later to decorate. There were heart shaped balloons drifting through the room, disturbed by Jon's opening of the door. The uneven hardwood floor was littered with confetti and, in one particular corner, glitter. So much glitter.  
They closed their eyes, inhaling deeply, on the edge of begrudging acceptance. Luck did not seem to be in their favour today. Jon made their way to the spare desk (the one surrounded by glitter), and set their laptop down with a clunk. They set their damp jacket on the coatstand and retrieved a couple of statement folders (not the ones they'd intended to work on that day, granted, but some statements was better than none at all). Jon wiped off the confetti that had latched onto the wet leather of their shoe, and was just getting ready to put some headphones in and ignore the world, when from somewhere down the hallway they heard a curiously accurate rendition of 'Careless Whisper'. Impersonated saxophone solo and all. 

  
Tim entered the office, dancing to his own tune, completely unaware of Jon. In his hand was a plastic bag full of paper roses and other Valentine paraphernalia. It took a full spin in Tim's dance routine for him to notice Jon.

"Hello boss!" He grinned, starting to unpack his bag. "Didn't think you'd be in so early today. Saw the sign on your office door, real shame that."  
There was something mischievous in Tim's eyes that worried Jon in a rather benign way. They didn't officially have any evidence that their office being off-limits was Tim's fault, but they also didn't have any evidence to the contrary.

"I could say the same for you. I'm not sure I can remember a time when I've seen you in the office before nine." Jon realised his mistake just as Tim's smile got wider.

"Oh, I can come in later if you want me to, I'm quite happy to turn up at noon if you'd prefer." Tim held up a couple of paper roses, waving them at Jon. "Just not today though."

With that, Tim had taken his threatening flowers and sauntered out of the room, towards the kitchenette by the looks of it.

Jon knew they were right to be suspicious. They'd watched the same thing happen every Valentine's Day for as many years as they had worked at the Institute. It always went the same: they got to work, Tim went overboard, Jon spent the day trying to hide with a hint of schadenfreud for the others, and then Tim would buy them an apology drink at the pub later on. (That was another tradition, drinks at the bar for all those not spending the day with their significant other.)  
However, Tim had barely made so much as a joke towards Jon. They'd been there for almost an hour, and the only words Jon and Tim had exchanged were about the statements Jon was attempting to get through without recording. They didn't hear so much as a suggestive peep from him until 9am, on the dot, as Sasha walked through the door.

"Hey Sasha!" Tim was out of his chair the moment the door opened, sidling over to her desk. "If you were a flower..." He paused, making sure he had her attention, "You would be a damn-delion."

Sasha, who had been doing admirably in ignoring all the decorations, cracked a smile at this. "Thanks Tim. Good morning to you too." 

She shooed him back to him desk, and walked over to Jon, folders in hand. As the two of them discussed what Sasha had found from her less-than-legal research the day before, Jon noticed Tim scrolling through his phone, gleeful smile on his face.  
It worried them.

Some fifteen minutes after Sasha's perfectly timed entrance, Martin came rushing through the door. His hair was sticking up at every available angle, probably a mixture of frizziness from the rain and too many failed attempts to flatten it. As Martin shed his coat, Jon couldn't help but notice the label sticking out at the neck of his jumper. He was looking around the room with complete bewilderment, lips moving around words that never left his mouth. He kind of looks like one of those cute little guppies, Jon's brain unhelpfully supplied.

Like with Sasha, Tim didn't wait until Martin had sat down. His voice was perky to a fault as he perched himself on the edge of Martin's desk, watching the man wring out his scarf with a baffled look in his eyes. "Hi Martin!"

"Hi Tim."

Neither man moved, staring at each other, Tim with a wide smile, and Martin looking like he was becoming less confused and more suspicious.

"Do you know what my shirt is made of?" Tim said, gesturing to the frankly horrific red and pink patterned shirt he was wearing. He spoke in a deadly serious tone, causing Martin to frown slightly.

"I mean, it's probably cotton?"

"No Martin, it's boyfriend material!"

Understanding dawned in Martin's eyes, quickly followed by an exasperated sigh. Sasha giggled from where she was on the floor looking through some file boxes. "Tim, stop annoying him and help me sort these statements."

He hopped off Martin's desk and shuffled across the room, only to dramatically trip and fall as he reached Sasha. He landed conveniently in her lap, and twisted to look up at her face. "I think I just...fell for you."

Martin seemed to take this opportunity to make some tea, chuckling under his breath slightly as he scooped up Jon's mug from earlier that morning. Jon realised that they had been watching Tim's antics for the last couple of minutes instead of working, and decided that maybe those headphones (which had ended up back in their bag) were a good idea. They finished the notes they'd been writing before Martin turned up, and started to root through their satchel.

  
Jon's head was still tucked under the desk, when small _clink_ of porcelain announced Martin's presence. There was a light thud as Jon moved a bit too quickly, catching their head on edge of the desk. They winced slightly as they became upright, glad to see that Martin hadn't noticed.

"Is Tim always like this on Valentine's Day?" he said, glancing at Tim's desk, which he was currently using to put the apparently labelled faux roses in order. He seemed very focused.

Jon scoffed slightly. "Unfortunately, yes. Not exactly conducive a productive work environment, although..." They trailed off, watching as Tim opened a small bag of confetti on Sasha's head. "I'm starting to doubt this office ever had that."  
Martin gave a little half smile, obviously taking Jon's grumble as a jest, and meandered back to his desk, distributing mugs of tea on the way.

Tim almost legitimately tripped in his scramble to get to where Martin was placing his tea. There was a familiar glint in his eye. "Hey Martin, is your name Earl Grey? Because you look like a hot-tea to me!"

There was a warm chuckle from Martin at that. "That didn't work, you used my name!"

Tim held his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, how about this one?" He shook his hair to make his hair flop down, and then looked up at Martin through his fringe, putting on a deep voice. "I like my tea the same way I like my men. Hot and sweet."

The same laugh hit the room, but with a slight edge to it this time. When Martin turned back around, there was a hint of red in his cheeks.

The day continued in much the same fashion: Tim reeling off pick-up lines with practised ease, Sasha pretending not to laugh, and Martin trying to focus despite Tim's compliments. Jon paid a bit more attention to Martin than they usually would. They'd dismissed his value to the archival team fairly early on, the incident with the dog still fresh in their mind, but watching him now was different. Martin actually was trying to do his work. Jon had glanced over his CV, and didn't remember many jobs that would be transferable to the Archives. Sasha and Tim had been with the Institute for a little while now, Sasha especially had been here a good few years before Jon. Those two could probably do some of the easier work here in their sleep, but Martin was still getting used to it all. 

Jon briefly entertained the idea of seeing if there was any official training Martin could get, before settling on just not being as harsh. Jon knew that they had a tendency to be a bit ruthless on tape. They didn't think Martin had heard them so far, but it couldn't hurt to be a little less sharp.  
Every time Martin made a round of tea, he'd return to his desk a little redder from Tim's words, and Sasha did end up having to smack Tim upside the head at one point, although Jon didn't quite hear what he'd said. Maybe that was for the best.

(Many hours and drinks later, Sasha would let slip what the line had been and Jon would choke on his drink.)

They had a small reprieve nearing the end of the day, when Tim disappeared to deliver roses and cheap chocolates to various Institute staff, under the pretense of "Gotta check something in Artefact Storage!". He left the room with a spring in his step, then Sasha wandered over and put a couple of manilla files at the edge of their desk, as if she'd been waiting for him to leave. "What's got you worrying? You've had a face on all day. Or is this just what you look like when you work now, holed up in your office all day?"

Jon didn't quite rise to the bait. They'd known Sasha long enough to know that it concern rather than judgement underlying her words. "I'm fine, just finding it difficult to focus, can't exactly record the statements out here and..." 

Sasha raised her eyebrows. "And...?"

Jon sighed, contemplating what they were going to say. "And Tim is hardly helping."

That wasn't the whole of it, but Jon wasn't going to make themselves sound as needlessly paranoid as they were. Sasha and Martin had been the main targets of Tim's Valentine's pranks, but he still hadn't said anything to Jon. If they weren't so wary at their core, Jon might have just said that Tim had learnt his lesson from years prior and decided not to bother Jon this year, and left it at that. However, the puckish smiles Tim kept giving them every time he found a new statement or handed in some research felt significant. He's got something planned, I just don't know what.

By 5 o'clock rolled around, Jon was starting to feel a bit better. Tim hadn't returned from his little jaunt, and they were starting to feel like they might get out of work without any embarrassment or incidents.  
That hope was a mistake.

Sasha and Martin already had their coats on, getting ready to head to the pub. Sasha had her phone out. Jon was just telling them to go on ahead, they needed to finish this one statement and they'd be down right after, when the door flew open.   
In the door way was Tim Stoker, dressed from head to toe in something vaguely Elizabethan. There was a ruffle around his neck, and his gaudy shirt collar could be seen from below his costume-doublet. He'd also managed to find some rather bright tights and worryingly poofy hose.  
Jon hadn't gotten a word out before Tim started. "My boss's eyes are nothing like the sun, coral is far more red than their lips’ red, if snow be white, why then their breasts are dun, if hairs be wires, black wires grow on their head."

Tim pranced around the room with his words, clearly enjoying the speechlessness in the air. "I have seen roses damask’d, red and white, but no such roses see I in their cheeks. And in some perfumes is there more delight than in the breath that from my boss reeks. I love to hear them speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound. I grant I never saw a goddess go, my boss, when they walk, treads on the ground."

At this point, Tim had jumped onto his desk, and back off, landing next to Jon. He held a small bouquet of yet more faux roses towards them. "And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any they belied with false compare."

Jon sat there, a shocked smiled creeping onto their face. They accepted the flowers and Tim grinned. "So...how did I do?"

"You changed it for me. Sonnet one hundred and thirty." Jon began to laugh, something they really hadn't done in too long. "You completely ruined the integrity of the poem!"

Tim gave an affronted look. "Well I was hardly going to call you my mistress, that would just be straight up incorrect!"

There was something in Jon heart that squeezed at that, but they were laughing too much to really think about it. "I cannot believe I was anxious the whole day just for you to bastardize some Shakespeare." They looked across the room, only to see that Sasha had been recording the whole time. "You knew?" 

She giggled, nodding slightly. 

"Traitor." Jon muttered theatrically.

Sasha just chucked them their coat. "Come on, the statements can wait until tomorrow."

"That's if we're conscious tomorrow!" Tim was grabbing his jacket, simply throwing it over his awful costume. Jon considered asking if he was really going to wear that to the pub, but after a moment, they realised they already knew the answer was yes.

If the four of them managed enough drinks that night that the entire Archival team phoned in 'ill' the next day, well, that was Elias' problem.

**Author's Note:**

> couple of things:  
> GDPR is like a data protection law in the EU and UK, basically like protecting all the names and addresses and phone numbers and things.  
> The sonnet Tim recites is Sonnet 130, this is the original: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45108/sonnet-130-my-mistress-eyes-are-nothing-like-the-sun  
> i actually had to have a discussion with my English lit friend about which bit of Shakespeare was most appropriate.


End file.
